A Kiss From A Rose
by Demelza Poldark
Summary: Based on the Novel rather than the TV adaptation.Frank Cleary hates his life and everyone who read the novel knows how his life went. Well heres how it should have been. Sexual content and language in later chapters Slash Frank/O.C.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or places all belong to Colleeen McCullough.

The italics are the authors own words used here with much love and appreciation.

Chapter 1: Drogheda.

_After the shocks Australia had administered to them in bewildering rapidity, Drogheda homestead seemed like a touch of home, with it's gracious Georgian façade and it's budding wisteria vines, it's thousands of rosebuds_

'_Are we going to live here?' Meggie squeaked_

'_Not exactly,' the priest said quickly. 'The house you're going to live in is about a mile further on, down by the creek'._

_Mary Carson was waiting to receive them in the vast drawing room and did not rise to greet her brother, but forced him to come to her as she sat in her wing chair._

'_Well Paddy,' she said pleasantly enough, looking past him fixedly to where Father Ralph stood with Meggie in his arms, and her little arms locked tightly about his neck. Mary Carson got up ponderously without greeting Fee or the children._

'_Let us hear Mass immediately,' she said. 'I'm sure Father de Bricassart is anxious to be on his way.'_

'_Not at all my dear Mary,' He laughed, his eyes gleaming, 'I'll say mass, and then I think we'd all enjoy a hot breakfast at your table, and then I've promised I'll show Meggie where she's going to live'._

'_Meggie,' said Mary Carson_

'_Yes this is Meggie. Which rather begins the introductions at the tail doesn't it? Let me begin at the head, Mary, please. This is Fiona.'_

_Mary nodded curtly and paid scant attention as Father Ralph ran through the boys; she was too busy watching the priest and Maggie._

There was a sudden clatter of doors travelling through the thin walls and a murmur of disapproving voices. Mary looked towards the door her eyes suddenly contemplating a private amusement. The door burst open and a young woman came bounding into the room. All eyes in the turned to her and she faltered for a second at the size of the family and the obvious novelty she must have represented to them. She was clad in beige riding jodhpurs and a white, mannish shirt, her golden hair was pinned up behind her head so it was impossible to guess at its length. She recovered her composure quickly and walked up to Mary's side, the priest's eyes following her with unspoken questioning.

'You'd be late to your own funeral girl,' Mary remarked and turned back to her brother and his family who were still aghast by the latest surprise.

The girl held out her hand first to Paddy then to Fee while Father Ralph muttered a quick introduction. The nature of her appearance left them unprepared for the polite, crisp English accent with which she spoke.

'Rosina is my late husband's goddaughter, said Mary still musing, 'She often comes for a week or two in the holidays'.

'And overstays her welcome I fear,' the girl joked in return.

She turned her eyes to the row of reluctant boys, stood behind their parents, awed by the unfamiliar. She held her hand out to Bob, Jack and Hughie in turn, who each took it for a brief moment before releasing it and standing awkwardly, clutching their caps. Hughie raised his eyes slightly, unable to ignore her young figure. The boys had never really known another woman besides their mother and Meggie, and were certainly shocked to see one dressed as she was. Rosie smiled at their shyness. The priest, she knew, did not approve of her and would rather she kept her distance from the latest members of his flock, but of late they had become private enemies in an unspoken war, so she was not in the least perturbed by the reaction she received.

Frank had been stood behind the others, somewhat dethatched from this as he was everything else personal to the family. Her keen eyes spotted him before he had a chance blend completely into his surroundings. He looked up and saw her face clearly, open and pretty. A feeling of unreasoning desire and the awareness of his own appearance and station washed over him at once. It was only for a second he faltered and only a second longer that she continued to look at him, but it was long enough for Fee to notice.

As she drew back there was a heavy silence, everyone waiting for Mary to take control again, but Mary seemed as much intrigued by the girl's sudden apparition as they all were. Ralph decided she had had their attention for long enough, setting Meggie down he took her hand and lead her out of the room in the direction of the chapel. The rest of the Cleary's followed and Rosie allowed herself a moment more to stare at Frank's retreating back.

Mary stood up, the two women were about equal in height, and Mary once could have matched the young woman's looks. There was a strange respect which existed between them, if no real outward affection was ever shown. When Michael Carson died Mary had thought there would be no one to encroach on her total possession of Drogheda and her personal freedom from social obligations. So it had been quite a rude shock when she found a special bequest to Rosina in her husbands will, and instruction that she would always be welcome on Drogheda. But Rosie was not the same as normal children and as she grew it was apparent to Mary that she was no ordinary woman. She would not marry the first eligible man who proposed, sit around enjoying the outward trappings of life and never holding the control over it. Rosina wanted to be her own master; she wanted to be like Mary.

Now they shared this moment, conscious that the arrival of the Cleary's would alter their heavily guarded existence.

'And which one were you staring after my dear,' Mary enquired riley.

'Which were you?' Rosina countered.

The corners of Mary's mouth twitched slightly, she had guessed Rosina was aware of how she had been toying with Ralph and that bringing her brother here had been a controlled move in yet another personal battle. But she let the remark go. The girl was perceptive and she would do no more than look on in amusement, she didn't want the priest to inherit a single grain of Drogheda's soil.

As Mary made to follow and hear mass, the young woman walked back in the other direction. Her mother, Michael's sister had married an Englishman, and all traces of Catholicism had long been banished from her mind. Mary turned back at the door.

'You won't misbehave will you?'

Rosie shook her head and giggled, 'with some common Irish shearing boy?'


	2. Chapter 2

For the women of the Cleary family, the first week on Drogheda was hard work. The Head Stockman's house had been empty for nearly three months and in that time thick layers of dust had spread over the little furnishings which had been left. The intense heat forced them to keep a window open at all times which brought the flies in. This meant all food had to be prepared and stored the night before, and the men, who had immediately launched themselves into learning the running of the paddocks, always returned home in the evening tired, hungry and dirty. Fee of course carried on as she always had done, accepting her lot and the work without comment or complaint. Meggie, anxious to help her mother and the entire family settle more easily, took control of the baby and did everything for him bar feed him. The heat brought out his temperamental nature; he had a big voice for such a small person, and therefore she was constantly in demand of his attention.

Mary Carson kept her distance, slightly wary of Fee. She had quickly surmised that her brother's wife was far better born than the Cleary's and a little careful probing on her part had made discoveries which put her in mind of the situation. Why Fee had married Paddy and why she seemed to walk about in a constantly state of untouchable martyrdom, Mary didn't know or care. Being placed beside a true lady, however far she may have fallen, made Mary even more conscience of her own poor start in life, the knowledge of which she had worked so hard to suppress.

Her housekeeper, Mrs. Smith, visited often and was a great help. Puzzled though she was by Fee's lack of openness and enthusiasm, the promise of the children, especially baby Hal was all the encouragement she needed. She had given Fee her sewing machine and together the two women, sometimes assisted by Meggie, made up dark curtains for the windows and new clothing for all the family, light and cool to combat the Australian climate.

On her third visit Fee and Meggie were surprised to see Mrs. Smith walking up from the big house with someone else in tow. Rosina, clad in riding jodhpurs and muddy boots, her golden locks covered by rough bandana, her face fresh from her ride, came upon the Cleary's house with an open smile and easy manner.

'I'm so sorry I've been neglectful of my neighbourly duties', she said cheerily to Fee, 'school work'. As always she spoke clearly and precisely, as though she were in an elocution lesson, it made her difficult to make out, but that was the intention, even if it was an unconscious one.

The girl pulled off her boots, leaving them in the doorway, and skipped into the house. She got to work immediately at scrubbing the windows, which seemed to become more grimy with each humid evening. She whistled and hummed to herself, with the energy of one who had been confined for a long time.

Meggie observed this stranger with a mixture of curiousness and mistrust. She had never encountered this kind of femininity before. The only girl in a family of boys she had looked to her mother as the role model for her future. In her limited experience girls grew to be women who would be wives and mothers, subject to their men folk, not unhappy in their homes and children, but surely not with this vitality and performance. By the end of the afternoon however Rosie had won her round, partly on account of her eagerness to help and partly due to the lumps of toffee she slid to Meggie while the older women were occupied.

'Strange girl', Mrs. Smith observed to Fee, looking over at teenager now pulling a face at an unimpressed Hal, 'I can't imagine how she will cope if she ever catches a husband. Apart from a generous bequest from Mary, and that which is hers from the late Mr. Carson, she has nothing you know, the family is almost bankrupt, she'll need to find a good match or they're done for'.

'Well she's attractive enough on the outside and her youth will appeal to someone', Fee replied with a hint of bitterness, 'Once she's been caught she'll have to measure up to her husband's wishes, although I'm sure whoever he is he'll enjoy enforcing them upon her'. It was unusual for Fee, who mostly kept her private thoughts to herself, and the other woman glanced at her wondering she was speaking from experience.

Frank had managed to escape from the paddocks earlier than he should, his father being far off at the time. He knew there would be an amount of trouble when Paddy came back to the house, but the half an hour he would share with his mother was worth it, there was so much she had to do it was unfair that none of the men would lift a hand to help. He entered the house and was greeted by the sound of high girlish giggling. On rounding the corner he saw that it was Meggie and Rosina, the girl he had seen at the big house, drying up the crockery and cutlery. Evidently he had interrupted some private joke for they stopped when they caught sight of him, Meggie ran over to him.

'Look what Rose gave me, I saved some for you', She slipped the last pieces of toffee into his hands.

He looked up uneasily into the eyes of the young woman, at a loss as to how he was supposed to greet her, to him she could have been a duchess or a princess, and the wide grin she was wearing as she noted this odd shyness did nothing to ease him. In the end he settled for merely nodding quickly and averting his gaze before pulling playfully at his sister's pigtails. But Rosie had warmed to the entertainment the young man provided and slid the bowel of water that she and Meggie had been using to shine up the cutlery along the floor towards Frank with her foot. He nearly tripped over it and looked at her startled. She giggled and nudged Meggie who looked between the confused. Frank did not like being made fool of and any man who would have dared to try would have found themselves on the receiving end of the man's vicious defensiveness.

'You know Meggie I don't think we should give your brother any sweets if he isn't going to say thank you properly', the cheeky grin was almost splitting her face.

'Oh Frank isn't rude', said Meggie, clearly worried that there would be tension between her dear brother and her new friend.

'No he isn't', agreed Rosie with a smile that reached her eyes this time. And she was repaid when he blushed. She stood just half an inch taller than him, which was actually quite good, considering most people towered over him.

'Thank you', he finally got out. Fee caught his eye and he made a quick escape. Rose sat back on the floor cross legged continuing the task humming softly. Meggie's watched her wide eyed.

Frank could not avoid the newcomer for long. When the girls had finished cleaning the cutlery, Rosina went outside to dispose of the dirty water. Frank still had all the muck of the paddocks on his arms and clothes, but was unwilling to approach her to reclaim the tin bowl. As she went outside the chord of fierce stubbornness snapped and he followed her out to the pump, where she had already refilled it with clean water and lifted the heavy tub with a pretence of ease. An instinctive gentility which he had perhaps inherited from his mother's family, and which would have shocked his father and brothers, came out in him as he took the bowl from her.

He brushed her hand just once, and that was all it took. That one touch would change his life forever. He kept his eyes averted while he re-filled the bowl. He felt her eyes on him and knew he was blushing. She reached the pump before he did, and he stepped back not sure whether he wanted to touch her again.

But she just grinned her wicked smile and took the bowl from him, 'Thank you, kind Sir'.

He watched her skip back into the house. When he could no longer see her, he washed himself furiously, shaken by an such brief contact. And it was in such a state that his father and brothers saw him as they tramped towards the house. Paddy had been in mind to haul the boy over the coals for his early departure from the paddocks, but when he saw the look in the young man's eyes he bit his tongue. It was not just the usual frustration and anger, it was almost humiliation. No one spoke to him as they entered, they were used to edging around Frank but today it was almost tangible. They could feel him breathing.

Of course she had to stay to dinner. Fee expected a refusal and was a little taken aback by the girl's enthusiasm. She waited until Frank had come back inside and had taken his place before setting herself down opposite him. Throughout the prayers and the meal she never took her eyes from him. He kept his stubbornly fixed on his plate, his jaw working slowly. Paddy stared at her as though she were a demon sprung up from the earth. All the boys were on edge having this unknown female presence among them.

After the meal was done with she helped with the clearing away, attempting to keep up her former chatter but Meggie was too over awed and Fee kept up her deliberate silence. When it was all finished she looked around the room at the boys all huddled together with their hands in their pockets, at Paddy who waited by the door pipe in hand but not lit, obviously wanting her gone and at a loss as to how it could be achieved, at Fee who now was ignoring everyone, at Meggie who was self consciously impersonating her mother, loyalties now decidedly with her father and wishing Rose had never come. Frank had stood apart from his brothers at first picking up this and that in an effort to occupy his hands and perhaps appear less agitated. He refused to look at her. He wanted to shake her or hit her. she had no right to come here and disturb him, it seemed as if she could see into his thoughts, which were his last refuge from his father, and where no one could be happy to trespass. She looked at him the longest taking advantage of his gaze being fixed upon the floor.

When there were no further means of procrastinating she considered herself beaten and made a cheerful if abrupt farewell. As soon as she was gone the men all breathed a sigh of relief, but Paddy remained in a fractious mood for the rest of the evening. Frank disappeared outside as soon as he could and was absent until tiredness forced him inside to his bed. He was conscious of his Mother's furtive glances, of everyone else's awareness of the intensity that was building within him. It was worse than usual. He had just been humiliated by a girl, and the worst of it was that he didn't understand how she had done it, only that she had managed it effortlessly and in front of his entire family, including the father he despised. She had been his first encounter with a woman who was not either related to him, or too old or matronly to be considered a representative of their sex. He didn't understand women at all, but as he worked from one task to the next, he found himself beginning to understand why she had had this effect on him. Firstly he knew enough that she had wakened in him a long dormant sexual desire. It was not that he thought she was beautiful, or that any particular part of her appearance stood out in his mind. He wanted her simply because he was a grown man who had never so much as felt the accidental brush of a woman's skin and she was the first to have come close enough for him to pick up her smell, her movements. The term flirting wouldn't have meant anything to him, but somehow he knew that she was aware of the feelings she had stirred within him and had turned them on him as if she were offended by them. He also knew that it wasn't just her gender that she had used as a weapon but her class as well. Maybe it was not that she was a woman who could toy with any man as she pleased, but only those so far beneath her that they made the easiest game. Everything from his ignorance of her gender, his lack of education to his clothes, voice and mannerisms, even his home and family had made him her bait, and he had been powerless to fend her off because of his own ignorance. He let out a strangled grunt and slammed one fist against the wooden rail of the fence knocking it loose. He stood gazing out over the route she had taken back to the nig house, trying to get control over his breathing. She would not come back he told himself. She would not come back.


	3. Chapter 3

As the weeks passed into months Frank was proved right. She did not return. He gathered from an overheard conversation between his mother and Mrs Smith that she had returned to school in the city. He breathed a sigh of relief and put her out of his thoughts, hopefully she didn't visit often. He slipped back into his own quiet routine looking on as the world and all its glorious opportunities passed him by. As time went on and the land moved with the seasons, he saw Drogheda at its most beautiful and its most vicious. Part of him could not deny its majesty but more than ever he was desperate to go on hating it, not to let it soften him. He knew one day soon he was going to break and nothing would be the same and although that scared him he was far more terrified of what he believed might become of him if he didn't snap; that he would cease to be real to himself and just fall in line, living and never feeling, all the world before him but never being able to own it. Right now the only thing that told him he was alive was his hatred. And the only thing keeping him in precarious balance was Mum, but whatever he did he could not make her happy as he wanted, he wouldn't be able to free her. Rosina drifted into his mind on the odd occasion, catching him off guard and resurrecting the old feeling of wretched frustration, but he quashed it before it could become a threat. He still hated her for what she had done, but he would most likely never see her again and the impotent rage did nothing to help his state of mind.

He wasn't thinking of her at all one night after the heavy rains, when he was moving herds back to their former paddocks, on his own this time. He had been working into the night and stopped very close to the homestead, but still far enough away that he could be out of sight and mind. Flopping down on the earth with only his arms behind his head he gazed up at the canopy of stars above him, he had succeeded in his goal to work himself until he was too tired to dwell on his situation. His lids were heavy and he was being lulled into sleep by the sounds of the bush when he caught the sound of hoof beats coming towards him. He pulled himself up, not sure that he wasn't dreaming. For some reason he felt he shouldn't call out, it was probably another stockman, why would they be coming after him this late, unless something was terribly wrong. He had just caught sight of the horse and rider when they veered away from him going on further out at a fast trot. He followed a few steps, still bemused as to why someone had come out here in the dark of night when there was no work for them; they couldn't be looking for him. The horse stopped at the next fence and its rider dismounted awkwardly. The figure stumbled, and Frank could make out quick heavy breathing, it was only when whoever it was turned swiftly on the spot that he noticed a long plait whipping behind them that he realised who it was. He stood frozen in astonishment. Why on earth was she out here? He saw her run up to the fence and fumble for an opening, but she was much too far from the gate. Then he realised she was crying. Her sobs became louder and more desperate as she searched before in the dark, suddenly she let out a harsh cry and though her head over the fence, crying fiercely into her arms.

Frank stood watching unsure what to do. He had no wish for her to notice him, but for some reason he couldn't look away. He knew he was trespassing, watching something that was private but he remained mesmerised. She had seemed so aloof and uncaring he couldn't have imagined her capable of crying like this. These were real tears, he had not cried himself for years now, but remembered the last time he had. It had been tears much like these he was witnessing now, her shoulders shook violently and he shivered although the breeze was only slight. Surely nothing so terrible could have happened to her to warrant this? She raised her head and he froze holding his breath, but she didn't look round. Time to be gone he thought and began stalking away as quietly as he could.

'Who's there', she suddenly whispered, her voice rasping from her throat.

He stopped in his tracks, feeling a fool. For once in his life he had been looking to avoid a confrontation.

'Who is it', she called out, confidence returning to her voice.

Frank silently cursed and stepped from the shadows into her path. She stared at him, her chest rising and falling with her troubled breathing. He raised his eyes to hers and held them there defiantly. He felt his hands unconsciously ball into fist as he held them firmly by his sides. She apparently didn't notice.

'What do you think you're doing, spying on people?'

'I was not spying', he spat back, 'and it's you who shouldn't be here, it's dangerous'.

She snorted, although through her tears it came out as an odd hysterical sound. 'I know this land a damn sight better than you. What are you doing skulking around here? I've a mind to tell my godmother you're not to be trusted'.

He came towards her, the greater light showing his features, she stepped back, her arms wrapped around herself, suddenly defensive. The silence between them broken only by the sounds of nature, his black eyes trained on her. Her fear and shock made her seem younger, and he felt a twinge of pleasure, remembering her teasing and how wretched she had made him feel, but to his surprise it didn't last long and as it left him so did his anger, all he was left with were the remnants of his wounded pride.

'You don't have any authority over my father', he almost winced when he referred to Paddy but he was determined still to put her in his place. Another thought then overcame him that if she did make trouble for him with Mary and Paddy found out he would hardly take Frank's side. She had him trapped again. Well he wasn't going to let her get away with it for much longer.

'You can't stay out here', he snapped and advanced towards her, and backed up against the fence she had no means of escape.

'What are you doing', she screeched in indignation, as he grabbed her wrist and began dragging her towards the horse.

'I'm not getting blamed if you end up killed because you're being stupid', he spat, 'I'm taking you back to the big house'. He knew he may well get in trouble for leaving the herds but it would be nothing compared to what would happen if she were found in the morning half eaten. She had already stolen his little amount of peace.

She dug her feet into the ground and tried to wriggle from his grasp but he was too strong for her, stronger than she had ever imagined. His grip tightened so she had to bite her lip from the pain. In frustration he gave her a sharp tug, to pull her forward. As he reached for the horses reins she tried to break free from him but to no avail. Trying to lift her up, it never occurred to him that this was the closest he had ever been to actually touching a woman. She was no different from fool headed sheep that needed to be moved by force. But she continued to twist in his grasp and succeeded in making him drop her, but still she couldn't force him his hand from her. Spinning round she clawed at his face and she herd him hiss, more in shock than in pain. But his brief unsettlement was all the advantage she needed. She moved on him and sank her teeth into the bare skin of his forearm, pushing them as deep as she could until he cried out and threw her away from him. She fell to the ground hard landing on her shoulder which instantly flared up with pain. She had only a moment to savour freedom before she looked up to see him towering over her; murderous contempt resonating from him so strong she swore she could feel it already. It almost seemed irrelevant if he actually hit her or not. She cowered throwing her arms over her face waiting for the blow to come. Instead she felt an impact next to her as he kicked at the rocky earth and sent the stones flying, as he did so he let out a howl of rage, then stalked away leaving her a stunned heap on the ground. Shaking she watched his figure disappearing back into the darkness. In that moment she felt more alone than ever before and she wrapped her arms bout herself and cried again until she had no energy left to go on.

Frank headed back to his restful spot, although it was far from fistful now, he made little kicks at the ground as he walked and threw himself down under the tree that had previously been his shelter. Seething he tried to get a handle on his breathing and on his thoughts. It had taken all his strength of mind to aim that kick at the ground and not at her. If only she had been a man, it would have been a wonderful release to vent all of his frustration on her. It was another contradiction to his understanding of the world. Women could be the cause of a fight but never an opponent. Well to hell with her; she could stay out here and hopefully get bitten by a snake. By morning he could be gone, if he didn't fall asleep he could move the last herd at first light, no one would ever know he had seen her. But despite his ability to rationalise he could feel the guile rising in him again. If he had hit her as he had wanted to, and gone on hitting her which would have been such a sweet release, he would have lost everything, before it was time. His world would soon come crashing down anyway, why not just let it happen. But he was clear thinking enough to know that he would not let his undoing be down to her. He would not give her that control.

He didn't hear her footsteps approaching until she was close. As she steeped into his line of sight he raised his head, his eyes flashing dangerously. She stopped and raised her hands. He remained frozen; his jaw tight, when she came close enough that he could see the tears still drying on her face. She lowered her eyes to the ground and knelt beside him, still a slight distance between them.

'I'm sorry', she said painfully. Still he gave no reaction. Taking a shuddering breath she reached a hand out to the shining red scratches on his cheek. He jerked away as though her touch were poisonous and shot her a look of deepest disgust. Feeling the tears building again behind her eyes she stood up and ran. Back at the fence her creamy mare waited and nuzzled her face affectionately as she cried into its mien.

'Why don't you want to go back?' The voice behind her shocked her into looking round. He stood half in the darkness and looked less tense than a moment ago but the intensity still radiated from him. His voice had lost its danger as well, but now it was cold and emotionless, which unnerved her even more. From the few times she had met him she realised he was a person who made everyone uncomfortable, but it didn't seem like it was this that bothered him.

But she didn't know how to answer him so just shook her head and stared dejectedly at her own boots. All the fight had gone out of her now. She had been shocked at just how much he'd scared her. She moved grasped the reins tighter as he stepped out from the shadow. The fight definitely hadn't all gone from him. She stood there before him sniffing wretchedly and feeling utterly humiliated, while Frank continued to stare her down.

'You shouldn't keep her standing there' he mentioned to the horse.

'I can't go back to the house', she looked up at him desperately, 'please, just don't tell anyone I was here. I'll be gone by morning; I won't get you into trouble I promise'.

His expression didn't change as he approached her. Taking the reins his hand brushed against hers and she moved aside allowing him to lead the animal off. She followed a few steps before clearing her throat.

'Well I don't want the poor beast bitten to death', he snapped, leading her horse to where his own was tethered. He had already checked the ground and made sure his resting place was reasonably safe.

'I didn't say anything about not wanting you bitten'. He called as she came up behind him.

She recoiled, then wiped a drying tear from her cheek. 'You've a lot more to say for yourself since I last saw you'.

He shot her an especially murderous look.

'I am sorry', she piped up. But he ignored her and went on smoothing the horse's nose.

'I'm not very used to apologising'.

'You'd never tell', he answered sardonically.

'And I'm not doing very well. That's another thing I'm not used to'.

He fastened the last knot and spun around 'Look. I don't know why you're out here in the middle of the night where you don't belong, and I don't care what you do with yourself just leave me alone. I don't want to see you and I don't to hear you ever again'.

The tears stung again. She hated herself more than him at that moment. 'I apologised', she said. Her fear of him was becoming mixed up in her self consciousness.

'Shut up and go away', he hissed.

'I won't leave Harmony'.

'Harmony?'

She nodded towards the horse.

Frank rolled his eyes, 'You stupid city people'.

She moved closer and stroked Harmony who seemed to recognise the touch of her owner. Something in him was inexplicably moved by the gesture and of the horse's response to it. It was just as alien as seeing her cry.

'What is yours called?' she extended a hand to the piebald. Frank was half hoping the animal would make a move to bite her as it often did, but apparently it was too tired to react.

'We don't name them, it's..

'Stupid?'

'Unnecessary'. He said without humour, 'Horses are working animals. You may s well go naming the sheep'.

She smiled, 'Yes but if horses are workers then they're equals. They deserve names'.

He glared at her. He had rather enjoyed being in authority over her.

'But you're right I suppose. There's certainly no place for sentimentality out here', she sniffed.

He averted his eyes from her face, feeling utterly bemused. Just minutes ago he was convinced he was about to kill her and now she stood in front of him talking about horses. Was she mad as well as stupid? He wondered then if he might in fact be dreaming. With a heavy sigh he flopped down on the soft earth and turned his back to her. Maybe if he shut his eyes he would fall asleep and find her gone. How dare this phantom intrude on his prized solitude?

But the phantom had no intention of disappearing. He could here her rummaging around in the saddle bag and squeezed his eyes tighter as he attempted to block her from his mind. He felt, rather than heard, her crouch down beside him.

'I know you're not asleep', she said quietly, as though she were speaking to a child. 'How about a peace offering?'

Curiosity prompted his eyes open. She was holding out a thick piece of chocolate. He raised an eyebrow.

'No thank you'.

'Accepted it for my sake. Maybe Meghan would like it'.

'Meggie', he corrected.

'Yes of course. Meggie', she seemed to say to herself.

The sound of his sister's name softened him a little. He took the chocolate without a word of thanks and tucked it into his small bundle.

She took another nervous breath, 'Do you prefer Frank or Francis?'

He looked back her with greater amazement, trying to fathom if she were playing a trick on him. He was ill equipped to realise that she desperately trying to get a grip on her own emotions.

'Frank', he answered with a bite of stubbornness.

She nodded, 'you look like a Frank'.

What on earth did that mean? He didn't look like an anybody.

'I'm bothering you again'.

'Yes', he said through gritted teeth, feeling his temper rising again.

She gasped loudly 'I'm sorry, I'm upsetting everybody today'.

Suddenly her lip was trembling, her breathing was shallow again. Frank's bewilderment became panic, she looked crazed.

'Miss…'

Choking she got up and ran from him out into the darkness. He won his feet in an instant and was sprinting after her. She wasn't headed toward the fence but seemed to going around the perimeter. He chased her through the no man's land that was neither homestead nor paddocks. When he caught up to her he turned her round and she stumbled blindly, pulling away from him and then flagging as he took her by the shoulders and shook her. Her tears overwhelming her she sunk to her knees, he lowered her down still holding on to her. He knelt down as well and let her lay her head on his shoulder. He could feel the shudder of every tear that ran through her.

Looking up at the stars he remembered that night, years ago in the old barn in New Zealand when his little sister had held him through tears such as this. All of a sudden he was filled with pity for the miserable girl in his arms. Remembering Meggie's soothing he tried to copy it now.

'I don't want to go back either', he whispered to her.

She gripped him a little tighter


	4. Chapter 4

Frank awoke with the warm sun on his eyes. It took a few moments for his brain to alert his body that he needed to move. He seemed to be moving, but connected to the earth at the same time, as though the ground beneath him was moving too. It was peace he was unaccustomed to. Something felt lighter in him; it wasn't that he didn't want to wake up, more that at the present moment there was nothing pushing him, the frantic urging in his brain was absent. As his lids flickered open he took in the brightness of the sky. He knew it was Drogheda's, but from where he lay it could have been anywhere, each time he closed and opened his eyes he thought of a different place, names he had read in books but would never see. He understood that morning that it was the same sky, the very same he had looked up at in New Zealand. There were some things a person could never run away from, but for the first time that thought gave him comfort.

Stretching he got up and looked around him, struck by what he saw, staring stupidly ahead. Almost all the sheep were gone; the last few were moving forward briskly, being herded by figure on horseback. The girl plied her whip with an expertise he could never hope to match. As she came closer and caught his eye an odd expression crept over her features, not the conceit he had witnessed in her before but real pride. She smiled as she passed him but did not slow her pace. He felt his head whip around as he followed her, shielding his eyes as he stared out towards the sun. Within minutes it seemed she was nothing more than a silhouette. For the second time he wondered if she was a figment of his imagination, but brushed this aside, gathering up what was left of makeshift camp and bounded up to the piebald, who glared at him, thoroughly unimpressed by his master's enthusiasm.

'Oh come on you silly beast', he told it; 'do you want to be shown up by that pony'.

The piebald remained unmoved, but was quick into action as Frank fixed the saddle and jumped up. By the time he reached the home paddock the sheep were all settled and the self-satisfaction was back in Rose's face. She leaned against one of the many gates watching him, as he was forced to dismount to close the one behind. He really was no kind of Stockman, definitely not one cut out for Drogheda, she thought. He approached her slowly now, riding the piebald at a steady trot, while she waited as if completely unmoved. It was not the same woman who had fallen down in his arms last night, and clutched at him and begged him not to send her away. There would be no allusion to that now, he thought, but his witnessing it had levelled the contest and he no longer felt inferior. As he dismounted her look of appreciation grew. He noticed that she was more muscular than he had realised, she must have had experience working the paddocks. It was unheard of in his world for a woman to do a man's work. She must be strong, so why had she been so weak last night. It had been a long long time since he himself had been as weak as that.

'When did you start', he asked, unsure of anything else to say.

'A few hours now'.

'And you worked all the gates yourself?'

She held up her hands and waved them theatrically. 'One of my many gifts'.

'You should have woken me'.

'I disturbed you enough last night'. Something about the way she phrased the sentence unsettled him, but recovered quick enough. She had disturbed him greatly, in ways he could not fathom but he was determined never to hand her the advantage again.

'Thank you', she said meeting his eye with more sincerity than he had yet seen in her.

'What will you do now?' he asked, not sure she wouldn't fire up again. He was not used to being the person hoping to quell another's temper.

'I must go back and speak to Mary. I have to apologise, something I think you know I do not find easy'. He noticed how her voice had become refined once more, as though that was part of her armoury. 'I do so hate being in the wrong. But I hate not having her approval more. She is all that I have out here'.

'Are you here then?... I mean are you staying here', he felt the blush creep over him but pretended he was unaware of his mistake.

'Only for another week, then I must return to the city. But I am supposed to always be welcome here did you know that? It was stated in Mr Carson's will that I must always be welcome on Drogheda as long as I am alive. I'm afraid I may be causing you trouble for some years to come. Or when Drogheda is yours will you build a wall high enough to keep me out'.

'Why would Drogheda be mine?'

'You are Mr Cleary's eldest son?'

'I won't be staying on Drogheda any longer than I have to'. As he heard himself speak the words he felt a new conviction. They were no longer just words, a wish or a dream. It was a fact. It was his truth.

'I'm sad to hear it', she said. It was impossible to tell if she meant it.

They heard a movement from one of the sheds. It was later than he realised. His grip on his emotions wavered at the thought of someone discovering them like this. He knew they were doing no wrong but something told him it would not be appreciated. They occupied separate sides of a fence and neither would be permitted to cross. Not that he wanted her on his side he told himself. He would forget her after this. She would go to the city and come back here and be welcomed, while he was somewhere else, away from here. He felt a fluttering in his belly at that thought.

Squinting, he could make out the shape of Bob and Jack, walking out from one of the sheds.

'Well, I thank you again', she said watching him as he watched his brothers. She moved swiftly passed him out of the paddocks. He refused to look at her as she left and instead occupied himself with the gate.

Frank didn't return to the head stockman's house straight away. Instead he leapt back onto his horse, and spurred him to a gallop. They raced around the perimeter of the home paddocks until horse and rider were panting. He managed to avoid his father and brothers and when he finaly returned home, he collapsed on his bed and was lulled back into a peaceful daze.

Over the following week Frank went about his duties quietly, drifting along in his private sphere, watching the world. Now he knew it was only a matter of time before the thing happened that would force him to leave. His small victory over the girl from the big house had buffered his confidence, but his dread was only slightly dented. The main difference from before was that he no longer had the alternative to fear.

Out in the paddocks with Jim and Pete one day he saw a figure coming towards him. Somehow he knew it was specifically for him and not for the others. They gawped at her having never seen her out there before. She cast them a swift glance and they looked away. Frank straightened awkwardly as she walked up to him.

'Hello', she began.

'Hello'. He didn't know what else she expected him to say.

'I came to say goodbye'.

'Goodbye then'.

He couldn't understand what had been so funny about his answer, but the smile that split her face gave way to a fit of the giggles. She looked ridiculous, he thought. Slowly the smile came of his own features. The flashing eyes became softer, and for a moment he looked younger, softer. Not the man the who had stood over her that night.

When she recovered the said, 'Can I ask you something Frank'.

He nodded. He liked the way his name sounded on her lips.

'Will you write to me? I mean if I write to you first, will you write back?'

He thought about seriously for a moment. He had never written a letter to anyone before, there had never been anyone other than his family. The idea of it excited him, an odd thing to get excited over, but none of his brothers had anyone to write to. But she was most likely teasing him again. If only he could make himself believe that. She just wasn't the same person who had taunted him so expertly all those months ago.

'Perhaps I will', he said at last, moving past her returning to his work, careful not to seem as though he were really taking notice of her.

'Well then', she said to herself and moved off.

I have to be going crazy Frank told himself, and shook his head. His mother told him to that when he had cobwebs in his brain. Jim and Pete were watching him now, smirking. He felt his hands shake. Anger pulsed through him, he could hear his heartbeat loudly, pumping right in his ear drums. He felt dizzy. Suddenly he was kicking at the fence. He didn't know when he started or why. The anger grew in him and then left him with every kick. The stockmen were on him in seconds, pulling him back. Frank thrashed in their arms but even his strength was not enough to overpower the older men. The last thought as he was wrestled to the ground was of a woman with golden hair, and the sting of tears that was behind her eyes and his own.


End file.
